


Changing Perspective

by Brackets_002, QueenEgg



Series: Children of Wyrm [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, Mostly Chronological Chapter Structure, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pale King learns to be a Dad through a series of interconnected parental events, Some Characters go by alternate names, There's like 50 vessels ok, no one else gonna use these character tags? fine by me i will im no coward, that actually might change, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-02-10 19:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12918675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brackets_002/pseuds/Brackets_002, https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenEgg/pseuds/QueenEgg
Summary: The King never expected to get attached to his creations, but he did. No takebacks!





	1. Emergence

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the Hollow Lite server and my wonderful, spectacular, amazing friends for without you all, this would not exist at all.

The Wyrm remembered the day his efforts finally came to fruition. After so long spent researching the odd material that filled the Abyss, he and Monomon had finally come up with a plan- proven and tested with both his Kingsmoulds and Wingmoulds before -that would hopefully result in a creation that could seal away the Old Light. It took much of his effort, and in the end, even his beloved wife contributed a part of herself to the endeavor.

Unlike the brief time it took to press void into a mould and create a construct out of it, this new experiment would take time. After he was finished putting his projects together, he’d traveled to the bottom of the Abyss alone and started the process.

It took months of waiting. Months that- in his mind -he didn’t have.

The Old Light had been forgotten by all but him, but with the incident at the Crystal Peak…

He couldn’t afford to waste time.

 

On the day they were expected to emerge from their shells, he descended with his Kingsmoulds and Wingmoulds in tow. The King was anxious to see the fruits of his labors, but as it was, upon arriving it seemed that he’d still have to wait a while longer. As he walked among the rows of glassy black orbs filling the space around him, he took his time to peer closely at their shells, hoping that he would be able to see a glimpse of what they held inside. It wasn’t until a faint tapping echoed out into the vast, empty space that his head swiveled around to look back at one of the spheres he’d already passed.

Hesitantly approaching its side, he barely had a chance to look in before a crack split the surface. Drawing back, he watched as the opaque material began to crumble, a tiny black hand appearing through one of the gaps in the surface before a brilliantly pale mask surfaced from the remnants of its chamber. Reaching out for the small form, the Wyrm’s breath caught as the being latched on to him tightly. Their hands gripped his robes while they tilted their head back to gaze up at him with curiosity, and in an instant, he felt his own arms tighten around them in return.

Gazing around at the rest of the orbs in the room, the King paused. There would be one of these vessels in each of them.

It didn’t take long for him to realize his oversight.

After a few more minutes of waiting, the being in his arms had apparently drifted off to sleep, the effort of bringing itself into the world having tired it out. Upon figuring that there would apparently be no more hatchings that day, he began to prepare to ascend once more, but not before giving his moulds strict instructions on what to do if any more emerged while he was gone.

 

On his next return, he was greeted by the sight of dozens of pale faces looking up at him at once. Instantly, he regretted not waiting longer for them to emerge.

Soon, the King had his moulds carrying the multitude of newborn vessels to the palace. While the Kingsmoulds gathered up the smaller constructs in their arms- their claws neatly sheathed as to not harm them -the Wingmoulds lit the pathway back up to the entrance basin. With his retainers off duty, he could have them all quietly transported there without the risk of there being any resulting gossip.

Scanning the broken remains of the incubation chambers, the King checked to see if all the vessels had emerged. In each one he could see the remnants of the shells, their surfaces either cracked or broken to pieces. As the commotion from the retrieval behind him faded away, the familiar tapping noise started anew. Turning to search for the sound, the King glanced about as he tried to find its source.

All around him were the remnants of his experiment, yet although most were damaged, there had to be at least one left-

Focusing hard on the tapping- its urgency increasing -he traveled farther away from the already emptied shells and towards the edge of the pit. There, sequestered away from the rest of them, was a solitary chamber.

Upon approaching it, he found its surface to be unblemished without even a single crack to be seen. The tapping from within became incessant, and in response to some long-forgotten instinct, he dug his own claws into the smooth shell. Its walls came apart after only a moment, and a pair of three-pronged horns shot up out of the shards, the vessel within desperately scrabbling for purchase among his robes.

Letting relief flood his body, he looked back to watch as the last few vessels were lifted into the arms of the remaining Kingsmoulds before being carried away. Glancing down at the one in his arms, he sighed.

“I suppose it is a good thing I came to supervise, is it not?” It took him a moment to remember that it wouldn’t be able to respond to him, born without a voice as it was. Shaking his head, he began to head back- ready to make the climb back to the basin himself -when the vessel began to struggle in his grip. The tiny being fought against his hold until he dropped it on reflex, their short legs somehow managing to evade him even as he spun about to grab them. With a frustrated noise, he followed them as they ran back to the chamber he’d just retrieved them from and climbed back in.

It wasn’t until he got closer that he realized they were rooting about in the remains of the shell, debris flying around them as they dug. Taking advantage of their distraction, he grasped them firmly and tried not to let them succeed in their attempts to pry themselves out of his grip.

“No, I have no time for this! Cease this behavior at once-” He paused in his reprimanding when another chunk of the shell hit his horns. Looking down at the vessel he was holding, he realized they couldn’t have possibly been the one to throw it. Turning back to the discarded chamber once more, the Wyrm set aside the vessel and looked into it himself. At the bottom, half covered in shards and with two of their limbs still trapped was another vessel.

Ignoring the way his breath caught, he set to work freeing it from its restraints. In the back of his mind, he registered its smallness. None of the others had been nearly this minuscule, yet it wasn’t only the tiniest of its siblings, but it was the only other to share a chamber with another.

Shaking slightly, he lifted up the vessel into the crook of his arm before letting the other return to his embrace.

The Pale King had gone through many failed plans to reach the scene he was now a part of. What began with his quest to liberate bug-kind from the shackles of the Old Light’s rule had resulted in many fruitless experiments. The bugs of the Soul Sanctum were failures beyond description, and his moulds would never be useful for anything besides guarding his palace and assisting with menial work. But now, as he gazed down at the fragile creations resting on his workshop floor, the Wyrm felt a flutter in his chest.

At his side, the Queen crooned softly at the dozens of vessels asleep on the ground.

“Why, there are so many! How many, exactly? There are quite a few more than I expected there to be when you said you’d be making several to explore your options.” His wife’s voice soothed his troubled thoughts, and he reached up when he felt her drape an arm across his shoulder. “What shall you do with them, then? They were made for a purpose that can only be fulfilled by one. Yet here we are, surrounded by dozens of the dear things.”

Rubbing a claw against his face, he held in a noise of dismay. “Ah... I cannot go on with my former plan.” Sinking to the floor, he clutched the two vessels he’d personally retrieved closely to himself. They continued to sleep soundly even as he cradled the smallest of the void-born beings against his chest. His beloved Pale Root kneeled beside him and leaned down to get a closer look at the masked child he held.

“So, are you giving up on your dream?” she asked.

“No,” he sighed. “I am asking myself... How could I have done such a thing? To bring these beautiful, terrifying, _delicate_ creatures into being... Have I become so obsessed with my dream? Only one could have been the pure vessel. Would I have sacrificed all the others? Cast them aside as mere waste?” Letting out a shuddering sigh, the Wyrm trembled. “I almost left one behind. The smallest. If its- _their_ sibling hadn’t tried to go back for them- no, I don’t even want to consider the possibilities.”

The Queen watched as he drew in a slow breath to steady himself. “Truly...truly these aspirations are a dangerous thing. My dear, there must be another way _._ ” he felt conviction spill into his voice as the idea took hold in his mind.

“...and if there isn’t?” Her words only solidified his resolve.

“Then I will make one. For my kingdom, for _them_ ,” he gestured to the multitude of vessels around them. “-because despite my intentions, I was wrong. There is a cost too great, and I refuse to pay it.”


	2. Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pale King comforts his youngest after an accident in the castle garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey I'm finally adding stuff to this again after so long?

The Pale King was unused to providing comfort. It wasn’t a skill he’d needed, or practiced, until his plans resulted in the creation of his children. Although he’d constructed the vessels to be hardy creatures, they were still young, and as a result, their shells were soft and easily damaged. He knew that, eventually, they would harden to resemble the tough, black, chitin-like substance that he’d used to create his moulds, but for now, there were bound to be times where each one would get hurt.

Unfortunately for him, it seems like it was the littlest one’s turn for misfortune.

He’d been preoccupied with his work, namely, more research on how to stop the strange illness cropping up at the edges of his kingdom, when a group of three vessels- he recognized several of his children, Ion, Asco, and Taoci -hurriedly crowded themselves into his study and began pulling him towards the door. At this point, the wyrm knew better than to try and convince them he was busy. They only came in groups when something was wrong.

After dutifully following his progeny through the castle’s winding hallways, he realized they were directing him towards his wife’s garden. Yet, he knew they couldn’t be bringing him to meet with her since she was away, the White Lady being absent while visiting her private retreat, accompanied by her dutiful knight and a few of their children.  

It was only after a short trek through the pale wisteria covered halls that the King was greeted to the sight of several dozen more vessels all congregated around a single spot. Once the occupants of the room noticed his arrival, their heads all turned to face him. All except one.

The swarm parted for him as he slowly approached the center of the action. In the very middle of the group was the smallest vessel- who had been lovingly dubbed _ Mikró  _ on account of them being the smallest of all their siblings. With a sigh, the Wyrm took in their current state. The situation seemed to be one that only he could resolve, with his youngest hurt. Thankfully, they weren’t wounded horribly, but one of their legs was gashed open, an offending thorny vine with a splash of black void adorning it being the obvious culprit. Being careful not to jostle them, he reached out and cradled them against his chest before returning to his study.

He figured he shouldn’t be surprised that the rest of them wanted to make sure their sibling was okay, but it was still amusing to see them form a line behind him as he walked back to his workshop. Each of the vessels watched as he withdrew a strip of bright blue fabric- bandages soaked in lifeblood for faster healing -and began wrapping it around Mikró’s wound. Although they winced slightly at first contact, he found them to be extraordinarily cooperative, and soon the injury was bound and they were back on the floor, their siblings drawing in close to see their wrappings. Giving them a once over, the King nodded as he watched Mikró and the others as they milled about next to him. 

“There you are, you’ll be just fine,” he said, settling a hand between the smallest vessel’s horns and marveling when their tiny hands came up to cling to his robes. “Now then, I do believe I have an errand to run, please be careful, Children. All of you, remember not to play too close to the thorns.” He gave them a final gentle warning, before somewhat reluctantly pulling himself out of Mikró’s hold and slipping back out of the room in search of the nearest retainer. As soon as he found out who was maintaining his wife’s gardens, they were going to be immediately removed from service.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting more of these shortly! Sorry that they're so small, I couldn't figure out a way to make them longer without dragging them out too much.


	3. Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King is delivered a rather startling piece of news, and a particular vessel gets their face smashed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one actually got a little longer? I wasn't expecting it but hey! things work in my favor sometimes gjbdfhkns

“Your Majesty-!” Forcing down his disdain, the Wyrm tried to ignore his follower’s cries as he sifted through his study for the moth tribe’s stone-engraved records of the Old Light’s reign. There wasn’t much that had been written down about her rule due to the moth’s culture of passing down knowledge by word of mouth, but the few recordings that existed were invaluable for his work-

” _ Please _ , your Majesty, it’s of the utmost urgency!” Whipping around with a barely restrained hiss, he gazed at the pair of retainers huddling in the doorway. Despite his admittedly short stature, they still bowed as he approached, cowering at his venomous tone of voice. 

“What is so important that you must disturb me in the midst of my research? What could possibly require you to tear me from this-?” Before he could finish, the other retainer who had yet to speak blurted out a phrase which made his heart nearly stop.

“Dearest King, our apologies, but the city guard- they said they saw some of your children heading towards the Crossroads!”

 

The King hadn’t flown in ages. The once folded wings upon his back ached with disuse, but he only pressed on harder as three of his royal knights- Ogrim, Ze’mer, and Isma -trailed behind in his wake. Later, he would worry about how exactly his offspring had managed to get past not only the castle grounds, but make it through the raining city above and all the way to the Crossroads elevator. For now, his thoughts were consumed by their unknown whereabouts. His other two knights- Dryya and Hegemol -were still at the castle with his wife, making sure that no more vessels could slip away to join their siblings, while he himself chased down his wayward children.

Upon entering the Crossroads, the Wyrm immediately noticed a familiar screeching above the normal din of citizens milling about the pathways. The vengeflies that occasionally infested the caverns above the kingdom grounds were always loud, yet this was of another kind entirely. The cacophony ended with a loud and unsettling crack that had the King beating his wings even faster to try and reach the source of the noise as soon as possible- his knights falling behind. It was only when he entered a somewhat large cavern- seemingly abandoned, littered with trash, and absolutely infested with multitudes of swarming vengeflies -that he finally located his missing vessels.

With a speed unbeknownst even to himself, the King drew his long-neglected weapon, the blade exuding light even as he swung towards the massive vengefly that was terrorizing the group of three vessels that were now behind him. As soon as his knights caught up with him once more, he gave the order for them to clean up the other, still screaming, beasts that remained, while he took care of the one in front of him. It was his own fault for not listening to his advisors telling him of the recent state of the Crossroads, otherwise, he’d likely have known of the growing nest, but that would be something to deal with later. For now, he placed himself on the offensive, gliding over the screaming vengefly as it spun about to charge him once more. Twisting beneath it when it flew over him, the wyrm raised his nail and cut through to the heart of the angry beast, ignoring its dying wail as he turned to tend to his offspring.

However, as soon as he reached their sides, he realized that something had gone horribly wrong.

Upon noticing their father’s arrival, two of the vessels began to tug and pull at his robes. After casting his gaze towards the third, his breath caught. The tallest of the three escapees- Asco, their name was -lay still upon the floor, an old discarded nail beside them while a single fracture separated their mask just over their left eye. Hurrying to their side, he knelt down and gingerly lifted their head up.

They must have noticed him, because even when they were plainly injured, the pitch black essence of void leaking from their wound, they still reached out for him in a feeble attempt to seek comfort. Curling his arms around his child, the King barely held himself back from openly weeping in front of them. He hadn’t been fast enough to prevent this.

“Asco-  _ Asco, _ are you alright?” he asked, watching for some kind of sign from the vessel in his lap. After a few seconds, they seemed to gather enough strength to nod slightly. At that sign, the wyrm let some of the tension leave him as he tentatively lifted them up to hold them close to his chest, his wings fanning out once more without lifting him off the ground.

“Ogrim, Ze’mer,” he called out for his knights as they looked towards him, in the middle of clearing away the vengefly nest, “take care of things here. When you’re done please find whoever was in charge of this section of the Crossroads and have them meet me at the castle for a much-needed discussion on the maintenance of the local pests. Isma, please gather the children and escort them back, I have to take care of them-” he gestured to Asco “- as soon as possible.” Once they’d all given him confirmation, he was off.

While the King moved as fast as he could without jostling the vessel he held, he still winced every time he moved sharply, and as he passed through the capital, he couldn’t help but be slightly impressed by Asco’s actions. He knew it would make sense to discipline them for their misbehavior and escaping from the castle unsupervised, but he figured the injury they’d sustained during their little adventure was punishment enough.

“Oh, my child, what am I to do with you?” he mumbled to himself even as he finally,  _ finally _ reached the castle grounds. 

At least he knew, there would be no more wandering freely for this particular vessel for some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the story of how Asco got themselves saddled with a 24/7 babysitter. The More You Know.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are my lifeblood but also come scream at me on tumblr (@eggroyalty) about this AU (or about hollow knight in general) if you liked the fic!


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